September 12, 1891

Mrs. Beth Wilamsburg,

Firstly an apology for the lateness of my response to your letter. I have had some distressing occurrances in my life -- both here in Boston and abroad in Africa whilst on my last research project. It is due in no small part to the once-distinguished and now deceased Dr Renlow. Yes, my friend, THE Dr Renlow of our very own institution Miskatonic University.

The moment that he began assembling an African expedition party of course I was intrigued. This would be my first travel to the exotic continent and certainly it would be a great honor to assist the well-known Renlow in his pursuit of this Idol he was so keen on finding.

What horror, Beth, when that Idol proved to be... I race ahead of my story, I am afraid. I know that you have gone on digs with the man, and Beth, believe me when I say I wish it had been the same Renlow that you described to me when I came to the University. The man I met was something of a jumpy sort, a little too eager to assemble our things and escape to Africa.

Now, Beth, I did not notice these things at the time, of course. I was thrilled with the idea of going on this dig and potentially discovering new history myself. Looking back, there were a few hints that our distinguished collegue had already begun losing what passed for his mind.

Please forgive my statements, Beth. I know that you and many of our friends would look with honor at Renlow under most conditions. I however can claim to have seen the darkest of his sides, and that influenced strongly by the aforementioned Idol he sought. There were times when he seemed almost sane, I will admit, but those times became more and more rare as our expedition continued. I had written many of these thoughts down in my journal -- as you often reminded me to do when I had the spare moment alone to form thoughts onto paper.

My journal did not survive the trip back to America, in fact it did not get as far as Mt Elgon, our destination. The trip out to the mountain was long and somewhat torturous, involving not only the long boat ride across the Atlantic, but then by train (I remain impressed by the rail service to Nairobi, by the way) and finally on a doomed caravan to Eldoret, where we began losing our bearers as well as supplies. I am not certain that we had to endure the walking from town to town, I am willing to entertain thoughts that any further times I might desire transportation in the hot savannah of Africa I wll insist upon at the very least a horse or camel to ride upon. Every new stop we seemed to have another disaster befall us: spoiled food, random lion attacks, and the like. The walk from the tiny village of Suam was miserable in the heat, as I know you have experienced, but it was also with the trepidation of one who seems to know they are walking into a trap.

Upon thinking back, my dear friend, none of the times we were attacked along the way did I ever see our attackers. Save for the bandits at the start of our trip, the lion was heard but not seen in the middle of the night, and the food was never something I had seen nor smelled. I wonder now.

Our party at the base of Mt Elgon now consisted of myself, Renlow, and two others; men of some ability in the tracking and hunting ranges, but sadly ill-equipped to deal with me along.

I know that your eyes just rolled with our typical expression, Beth, I assure you that they did deserve some mention because they died bravely and at the hands of forces both known and unknown.

They managed to remain gentlemen toward me until that point when fate decided to remove them from our existence, Beth. I wish that I could say the same for Renlow.

This Idol which he was searching for was indeed within the peaks of Elgon and its surrounding hills, at the end of a rather twisted maze of pathways and nearly-invisible trails. It seemed then too that at each turn, our new bearers were shaky and ill-at-ease with the whole thing, many of the locals refused to even speak to us when they learned the direction of Renlow`s search. I cannot say that I blame them, if they have some sort of deep racial memory which was warning them to stay clear of this Idol and its temple. Now, in fact, I wish that I had heeded their vague warnings.

I am afraid that I cannot put any fears that I am raising, to rest, Beth, because the worst of them were realized by myself on this journey. When we camped for the night on the rough ground near the high entrance to the temple -- we did not know how close we really were! The natives refused to go any farther, and rather than allowing their fears to carry them back to their village Renlow practically insisted they stay with us.

On the morning, they were not with us, and I do not remember seeing them in the village when I finally did return to it. The temple is beyond description, Beth, and even though the events are now some months behind me, I must say that I do not even wish to describe them to you.

The men took up exploring the huge hall that opens upon the cliff ledge where we had camped not two miles away. Carvings and pillars, framed the gigantic entrance to the place. The work of a race so long dead they are not even dusty memories in any text that I know of. The huge sloping entrance led to a giant hall of fearsome proportions, lit only by the sun coming from outside and the long hall. There was a throne at the end of the room, and two other exits, which of course the others decided to investigate directly. We did not get much farther than the first few cavernous rooms in the temple before the sun`s light dimmed enough that we would have to use torch light to continue. As for the other men and myself, we decided to call it a night and retire to our tents. Renlow continued in his manic way, and we left him to it: the elder of our trackers (and the far more gentlemanly of the pair) attempted to dissuade him from exploring the temple at night, but was sternly -- and I daresay quite loudly -- told to mind his own business!

I will admit that with time the wonder of the place does return to me, Beth, the sights we uncovered! The throne was in disrepair and probably due to its location near the entrance to the temple it was weather-worn and faded, but I believe I could imagine it spread with lush furs and bright cloths, surrounded by attendendants and worshippers of all sorts.

The night we three spent waiting for Renlow to emerge from the temple was a waste of our time, Beth. It was a night of poorly-got sleep and sudden jolts into wakefulness, for there were sounds this night in the huge hills. It was no wonder that the bearers left (or disappeared), my dreams were filled with the same sounds that my waking ears heard: growling and slavering of big cats, which seemed to circle the camp constantly. At least once during this long night, my gentle elder guide asked if I would appreciate company or a guard, and though I did decline I surely could have slept better knowing they were close by.

When the morning sun had risen, Renlow had in fact returned to the camp, such as he was. The rest of us were rousing and packing our gear to enter the temple again, he was surly and considerably more tight-lipped than he had been regarding his Idol. He was apt to snap even at me, but I detected something far more sinister in his face at those moments.

We entered the temple again, and moved to our respective sites of activity. I had chosen a largish room somewhat hidden from the direct rays of the sun, and was using a torch (we had lost any other forms of lantern or lights, along the way, remember). It was difficult to see the paintings on the walls here, but Beth they were both beautiful and horrifying. When I heard the distant sounds of a snarling animal, I assumed the worst: that there were beasts inhabiting this temple when humanity had gone from it!

The same sounds from the night before, I wondered, but much more insistant, and one perplexing noise which I came to realize was a harsh growling laugh.

I cannot exactly recall what happened at the beginning of my perilous captivity, I believe I was knocked unconscious by Renlow himself, perhaps after he disposed of the other two. I do remember hearing gunshots and shouting, but distantly as if through a thick haze of distance.

I heard these sounds and seemed to rouse, I remember rising and beginning to run, but I believe it was pure luck that I ran in the direction that did not immediately contain a trapped hallway or empty, dead ended chamber. But I found myself at the top of a flight of ancient crafted stairs, and having no wish to entrap myself further, I turned to see Renlow directly behind me yet again!

My hand pauses here, Beth. Though it has indeed been many months between these events and my letter-writing... Were I to relate these events to any other soul, it would be one of my valiant rescuers, namely Istvan Sanger, a young professor from Miskatonic -- perhaps you have heard of him? At any rate, Beth, I would tell you of my captivity in person. My ability to describe what horrors I met while in this temple fails me at the moment.

Renlow had been possessed by this desire to locate the Idol, and he surely had found it the night he strayed from us. Or perhaps he had gone on ahead during the other nights while we slept -- or attempted to sleep -- as the cat-creatures circled our camp. But Beth, the closer he got to the Idol the farther his sane mind fled from his body. I was brought to the location he had found, below the rest of the temple and down those stairs.

The room was far less well crafted than the rest of the place, for it had a bare, dirt floor. One which I became accustomed to during my captivity. The Idol itself was in fact in this huge room, and many times Renlow goaded me to approach it, touch it, allow it -- as he said, in his mad fevers -- into me. This I could not do, seeing the results on him.

I had no wish then, and I certainly do not have any now, to allow any such things `into` me. Madness, and this will sound mad, Beth, plus the terrifying powers of the god worshipped here in this ancient temple. Renlow had gained these powers and I nearly lost my mind when I watched him using them. For the cats which had circled our camp numbered one -- him.

Yes, Beth, I realize that this is powerfully strange. But true, I insist! For he altered himself seemingly at will into a monster, between man and cat, all the while slavering over me and when any words could be mustered from his muzzle-like mouth they struck fear in me such as I have never experienced!

Beth, I have told you of my parent’`s desire to marry me off to their business associates in Italy. On the surface a normal procedure when all parties are possessed of a desire for it. Naturally when I was presented with the knowledge that I`d been arranged to marry, I was outraged.

This bizarre mix of Renlow and cat-god had it in his head to begin a whole new race of cat-people! If I was enraged by my father`s wishes to marry... I was caught without words for the Renlow-cat, and I still am without much to say beyond `I fear not`. I think, Beth, that it was not even Renlow who desired me, it was this ancient deity. And I knew then that this was the reason the bearers had vacated (or been killed? I am still unsure), perhaps they were fearing such an event.

In my desperation I fear I did things so un-lady-like that I dare not ever describe them to my parents. I fear also that most of these things were to no avail, Beth. Though I inflicted obviously painful wounds onto the Renlow-beast, he continued to come at me day after day.

I no longer know how many days I was held captive, I know intellectually that the trip lasted a certain amount of time, but it was all a blur after the first few days. I recieved precious little food or water, apparently enough to keep me from death while Renlow attempted to break my spirit. By the end of my captivity I was sorely under-weight and ravenous for food, and badly in need of medical attention.

My first rays of hope came back when I heard other men`s voices echoing in the temple above. I could not raise my voice above a whisper at the time, but I did surely attempt to cry out when I noticed the voices were coming closer!

I did hear them enter the stair at the end of the complex corridor beyond my dirt cell, but I also heard Renlow`s familiar voice, urging them on while he picked up some other piece of equipment.

It was when they were in the temple without him, or so I thought, that I managed to warn them to help me before Renlow came back! I remember the terrifying silence as this knowledge sank into their hearts, then they moved into action bravely!

So brave, Beth. Three men against this beastial Renlow who freely changed his shape as a cloud on a windy day! He could heal his wounds, Beth, this I learned early on and with fear in my heart. They had to abandon their first attempt to raise me out of my pit-cell, for Renlow had arrived and closed the portcullis at the end of the dirt-floored room -- the same way that he had several times before I could escape. Hearing the scrape of that metal object against the walls still -- even the thought of it -- brings fear and desperation to my heart!

They fought for many minutes, shooting, pounding their fists against flesh, and I now know that it was Istvan`s whip keeping the Renlow-beast from killing his friends. One of them lay gravely injured by the end of the fight, but finally a relative of the elder tracker we had been accompanied by managed to put a bullet into Renlow`s head, one which finally killed him.

So I believe, Beth. I saw his body slowly changing from its massive cat-furred and tailed form into the familiar slightly out of shape and formerly kindly Dr Renlow, with the head-wound ... I am so sorry for these descriptions, Beth, but my relief at seeing the insides of that man`s head (unfortunately splattered all over poor Istvan`s face -- imagine if you dare, he was utterly disgusted!) outweighed the fear of its stomach-churning sight.

Even I do not fully believe that he could recover himself from a wound that grievous, though the cat-body seemed to be able to repair itself from anything less. Perhaps the bullet, I heard the men shouting about using the right bullets, had its effect at last.

Beth, these events are behind me, by many months. We endured so much to bring that damnable Idol back from Africa -- the trio carried it and myself out as carefully as a China dish -- and now it rests in the Society`s research house. How I pray and hope that they do not go so far as to `test` it out again, if there are other such beastial men in the world -- I hope only that they do not come after me!

During the long voyage back from Africa, I will say that Istvan and I had a particularly good time recovering from the events, and I do believe that he understands every word I tell him -- I have not yet told him of my arranged marriage but I fear do to so! While he is passionate about everything, science in particular but Beth he loves and fights with equal fever, I fear he will be dangerously angry about this revelation. Perhaps, though, that is exactly what I need to convince my father that his folly of marriage is just that?

I will not burden you with more blather. I needed to get these events out of my memory and behind me. I do hope that soon you will be back from holiday and we can meet again at the University, where we can speak in more detail on anything you so desire. I will reserve the right directly to cry on your shoulder, Beth, I have needed such a thing from a womanly perspective -- though Istvan is comforting and professes to actually understand the nature of my fears (and says so with a pained way), he has not quite (I believe) been through the same events.

Until we meet again, Beth, you remain my finest friend and I cannot wait our next meeting!

With Love, Cynthia